"You will say my little prayer, won't you, Mr. Solemn?" said Dot.
"Yes, Dot, I will," said the old man; "God helping me, I will."
She was teaching him many lessons, was this little child; and now that he saw her slipping away from his sight, each day growing more thin and pale, he felt as if his heart would break.
Violet and Ethel, and their papa and mamma, often came to see Dot, and brought her tempting things to eat—jellies, and grapes, and cooling drinks.
Dot was very pleased to see them, and would look out of the window for their coming for hours together.
But the flower was fading very quickly. Dot was taken suddenly worse, and even her mother knew that her little girl would not be long with her. She was very tender to Dot now; she would hold her little girl in her arms for hours together, for Dot was very weary, and liked to lie quite still, with her head on her mother's shoulder. And at length there came a long, sorrowful day, when Dot's father stayed away from work, and Dot's mother sat all day beside the little bed, which they had brought down for the child to lie upon.
It was evening, and little Dot was sinking fast. She had scarcely spoken all day, except to murmur her little prayer; but now old Solomon had come in, after his day's work, and was sitting beside her, holding her tiny hand in his.
She opened her eyes and smiled at him.
"Mr. Solemn," she asked, "have you said it?"
"Said what, my dear?" replied the old man.